The Tide Rises, The Tide Falls
by Ibelieveinsam
Summary: It's not exactly smooth sailing as tension rises between Sam and Dean, and they must deal with a storm tossed sea. A fic for the SFTCOLARS Summer Fic Exchange
1. The Storm

Disclaimer: Not mine. If they were, Sam would be Limp a lot more often ;)

A/N: This is a fic for the Summer Secret Santa Fic Exchange at SFTCOL(AR)S. It's for Spellbound. I really hope she likes it and it's close to what she wanted for in her prompt. I won't mention what the prompt was as not to give to much away.

Special thanks to my friend Alex and also I have to give a shout out to all my Limp!Sam friends and fellow spoilerfreaks at the CW Board: Louise, Jess, Funky, Natasha, Katie, Kayleigh, Shante, Amy, and Dawn. I hope I didn't forget anyone. Thanks for being there. You guys are all awesome :)

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**The Tide Rises, The Tide Falls**

_The tide rises, the tide falls,  
The twilight darkens, the curlew calls;  
Along the sea-sands damp and brown  
The traveler hastens toward the town,  
And the tide rises, the tide falls.  
Darkness settles on roofs and walls,  
But the sea, the sea in darkness calls;  
The little waves, with their soft, white hands  
Efface the footprints in the sands,  
And the tide rises, the tide falls.  
The morning breaks; the steeds in their stalls  
Stamp and neigh, as the hostler calls;  
The day returns, but nevermore  
Returns the traveler to the shore.  
And the tide rises, the tide falls._

--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

"A small fishing community, dead cattle, people going psycho and running off. We're going," Dean said animatedly, as he waved the printed sheets of paper around and paced the length of the small hotel room.

Sam looked up from the computer screen and merely rolled his eyes.

"Don't start with that Sam. You aren't bringing me down. How does this not scream demonic activity?" Dean asked, exasperatedly.

"Well for starters, the cattle weren't mutilated. Only one person went psycho," Sam said, the word psycho coming out as a disgusted sigh. "The list goes on."

"You said that with all the enthusiasm of someone going to a funeral."

"Yeah well sorry I can't talk about this hunt like it's some kind of fantasy getaway," Sam said, angrily, getting up and pushing his chair in so hard that it slammed into the desk.

"Sheesh. What crawled up your ass and died this morning?"

"I just think we should have all the facts first. There actually might be a logical explanation for all this."

"You really are Scully aren't you?" Dean quipped.

Sam stared daggers at him.

"Are you forgetting about the last hunt Dean? You were so sure it was a demon that time too."

"Yeah and that's exactly why we need to go there. This is like Rivergrove, Oregon and the Croatoan virus all over again. This might be the only lead we have. Maybe some demon wasn't creative enough to think of his own plans so he's taking a page out of the yellow eyed demon's old playbook."

"And what if it's not another demonic virus?"

"Then we keep going, until we find all these demons and send their asses straight back to hell."

"Whatever," Sam said, gathering the papers on the desk.

"Look I can drive up there alone you know," Dean said, eyeing Sam critically.

"No I'll go," Sam replied, resignedly.

He knew letting Dean go alone was not an option, not with the way Dean had been acting lately.

oooooooo

Sam waited patiently looking out over the water. The ride up there had been quiet. Sam had tried to balance the laptop on his knees as they drove to get in as much research as he could. Cape Alex Island was a small island fishing community in North Carolina, containing mostly farms. The place did have a lab that experimented with chemicals for research of some kind. The island received some kind of compensation for allowing the lab to operate there. Upon arrival, they found out they had to take a ferry out to the island. Dean had offered to go find out the ferry's schedule for them. Sam noticed a small boat making its way over to the dock. The person behind the wheel looked suspiciously like Dean.

"You have got to be kidding me," Sam mumbled to himself, walking on to the dock.

"Dean what are you doing?" Sam asked as Dean parked the boat. "The guy over there said there was a Ferry we could take."

"I figured we might as well get there in style," Dean said with a grin.

"You didn't steal this did you?"

"No I saw some boats for rent when I was walking over to the ferry."

"The Hunter?" Sam asked, reading the name of the boat off the side.

"Great name don't you think?"

"Why do I have a feeling that the name was the main reason you were drawn to this boat?"

"Maybe it was," Dean said quietly. "Or maybe I just have always had a secret urge to be the captain. Now hop aboard Gilligan."

"Gilligan?" Sam asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Well if I'm the captain, then that makes you Gilligan by default. Besides you definitely have the same haircut."

"Oh, brother," Sam groaned.

"Yeah that's who I am so you have to do what I say."

"You sure you know how to handle this thing?"

"Well you've seen how I handle The Impala."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Sam said, smirking.

"Look would you get in Sam," Dean replied, growing impatient.

"I don't know Dean," Sam said, becoming more serious. "The sky kind of looks threatening." Sam looked up at the scattered gray clouds in the sky.

"There's like two clouds in the sky. What are you making up excuses again for why this hunt was a bad idea?"

"Look let's just get this over with," Sam said, ignoring Dean and climbing aboard. "So then we can be safe back on solid ground."

oooooooo

Sam held on to the railing for dear life as he felt the contents of his stomach creeping up into the back of his throat. He could feel his lunch sloshing around in his stomach in rhythm with the water.

"Looking a little green there Sammy," Dean said, looking over his shoulder at Sam. "What's the matter? Don't have your sea legs?"

"Just keep your eyes on the road or water or whatever," Sam replied, trying to swallow back the nausea.

"Wait a minute there," Dean said, fishing his cellphone out of his pocket. "Let me take a picture of you. I don't think I have ever seen that shade of green before. I think I might want that color for these floormats I'm thinking of getting for the Impala."

Sam simply glared at him.

"Well never mind. I think the color looks a bit too much like pickle juice now anyway."

Sam attempted to give Dean a smug look but the thought of pickle juice caused his stomach to protest violently. He could no longer keep the nausea at bay. He threw his head over the side of the boat and threw up into the water.

"That's the Sammy I know and love. He cares so much, he even feeds the ocean life," Dean said with a laugh.

oooooooo

By the time they reached the island, Sam was miserable. He had vomited several times and the thought that they had to ride on a boat to get back to the shore made him feel sick to his stomach all over again. At this point, he'd prefer to swim there if it meant avoiding another boat ride.

"Welcome To Cape Alex Island: You'll Never Want To Go Home," Dean read off the sign. "Check that out Sammy. Creepy as hell. Definitely something fishy going on around here. Ha! Fishy," Dean snickered, realizing his play on words.

Sam felt the need to throw up again and he wondered if his older brother's lame joke, and not the seasickness, was the reason.

"Look Sammy. No service," Dean said, holding up his cellphone, remembering what happened in Rivergrove.

"Well we are in kind of a secluded area," Sam replied, reasonably.

Dean simply shook his head. He took out a CDC badge and handed one to Sam.

"Chuck Berry?" Sam questioned.

"Yeah I think it suits you. We can call you Upchuck."

"Hilarious Dean," Sam replied, sarcastically.

"You still look a little green there buddy. Don't get carted off with the sick."

They both agreed to separate. Dean wanted to have a talk with the neighbors of the man who had reportedly attacked his wife. Sam was going to the medical personnel that were treating the sick. They agreed to meet up in an hour back at the dock.

An hour later, Sam found himself walking back to Dean angrily. He spied him at the edge of the water talking to two girls.

"Figures," Sam mumbled to himself.

"You'll have to join me some time for a midnight cruise," Dean said, with his trademark grin and a wave good-bye to the girls. He spotted Sam and excitedly waved him over.

"You aren't going to believe what I found out," Dean said, before Sam had even made it over to him.

"I found out some interesting stuff too," Sam said, shortly.

"Well the guy, Dale Adams, was an upstanding guy according to the neighbors, just like you'd expect to hear right?" Dean said, not seeming to notice Sam's attitude.

"Dean—"

"Let me finish Sammy," Dean said cutting him off. "Well he wasn't feeling well for awhile. Then he started to have these mood swings. Wife thought maybe it was a midlife crisis. Then he just snaps the other night, hits her with a lamp."

"Dean," Sam said, impatiently.

"I found out some other stuff too. You wouldn't believe what goes on behind the scenes over there. Neighbors don't even live that close to each other but one guy there Ted had dirt on everyone. This one chick is cheating on her husband…"

"Dean!" Sam exclaimed, cutting him off.

"So what happened when you went to talk to the doctors?" Dean asked, not fazed by his brother's outburst.

"They were surprised to see me…_again_," Sam said testily.

"What do you mean," Dean asked, confusedly.

"Well the CDC was just there last week and they pretty much have the whole thing solved already."

"But that's not what the article said."

"Well they haven't published the results yet because they want to be sure they know what they are talking about. This isn't demon related at all."

"What is it then?"

"They think it's mercury poisoning. All the problems started happening after that lab set up shop here. Apparently mercury is one of the chemicals they use in experiments. They think they may have disposed of some of it improperly and released it into the water supply. There's a lake here that many people get their fish from. It most likely contaminated the fish that the people ate. Mercury poisoning causes a lot of symptoms, some being mood swings and fits of rage. That guy Dale was actually found and released from police custody. He's in the hospital."

"How do you explain the cows then?"

"The farmers allow their animals to graze and drink from that water supply."

Dean tilted his head to the side taking it in.

"You have to admit all the signs were there," He said finally, unbothered that it wasn't a viable hunt. He began walking back to the boat.

Sam didn't follow right away, half expecting Dean to turn around and realize how pissed off he was. He couldn't believe it. Dean had led them on another wild goose chase and he just didn't care.

oooooooo

Sam was leaning on the rail again waiting for whatever else he hadn't thrown up to come up too, when he felt the first drop of rain strike his head.

Great, he thought bitterly.

"Didn't think of checking the weather report did you Captain?" Sam asked, disdainfully. "I told you it looked like a storm might be coming."

"It's just a sun shower, Sammy. What are you afraid of getting a little wet?" Dean asked, glancing back at him.

"Yeah everything is a God damn joke with you lately!" Sam exclaimed, unable to push down his anger this time.

"Yeah and everything is a pity party with you lately," Dean said, pulling the keys out of the ignition and stopping the boat for awhile. "I'm almost glad I'll be out of here in six months so I don't have to hear you bitching all the time."

"Well maybe I wouldn't be bitching if you weren't always dragging us off on hunts thinking everything that looks at you funny is a demon. This is the second time you've done this in a month."

Dean advanced on Sam, until he was practically in his face. Sam didn't waver and glared at Dean.

"Are you forgetting about the hunt before the last one Sammy? That was a demon. And does it matter if the last hunt was a demon? I still sent that spirit packing and prevented him from killing anyone else. I guess that doesn't matter to you though. You know what Sam? You're a selfish asshole!" Dean spat.

"Yeah well you are too!"

"I am?" Dean shouted, incredulously. He shoved Sam sending him stumbling backwards.

"Just forget it," Sam said, turning his back on Dean.

Dean was ready to demand Sam answer him, when an incredibly loud crack of thunder resounded in the sky.

Sam looked up to see that the sky was now a sickening shade of gray. Lightening streaked across the sky. He felt his seasickness come back in full force as the water became more and more choppy.

Dean returned to the front of the boat and restarted the engine, intent on getting them back to shore. He was having trouble steering the boat. The rain was falling much harder now and he could barely see where he was going. He watched in alarm as the waves splashed over the side of the boat.

"Sammy go below deck!" Dean shouted over the pouring rain.

Sam's hair was now plastered to his forehead and he held the rail in a white knuckle grip.

"Dean, no," Sam said plaintively. "I should stay up here and help you steer."

He had a feeling Dean thought he'd be safer down there but he didn't want to leave his brother. Dean was doing the very thing that was causing him so much grief over the last few months, putting himself directly in harm's way.

"No arguments Sammy. Just go."

Suddenly Sam flashed back to a wall of fire.

_He stood in the doorway._

"_Dean come on. Just forget it!" Sam cried out. _

_The flames were encircling Dean as he continued to read the Latin. They seemed to dance closer and closer to Dean almost taunting him, like they'd take his brother at any moment._

"_Sammy, go!" Dean yelled, pausing for a moment._

"_I'm not leaving you!"_

"_No arguments Sammy. Just go."_

Sam reluctantly bent down and opened the hatch on the boat. The boat was now being tossed around like a toy. It was a small boat and he knew there was a chance it could tip over and sink. He prayed there was a radio down there because he doubted Dean could get them back to shore or could even see where the shore was. Sam bit back the nausea he felt. He had to focus. He went down the narrow staircase, holding on to the railing for dear life.

The tiny space was in an uproar. Objects were being pushed from one side of the room to the other. He managed to make his way across the room, where he could see the radio thrown on the floor. He prayed it still worked. Sam turned it on, and was relieved to see the light go on.

"Mayday! Mayday! This is The Hunter. We are off the coast of Cape Alex and we need help!" Sam shouted into the radio. He was greeted by only static on the other end. He had no idea if anyone heard him.

"Damn it!" Sam yelled, as a wave sent him sliding across the floor.

He noticed there was a lifejacket hanging on the wall. He had no idea if there was another one that maybe had been tossed to the floor by the rocking of the boat. Sam yanked it off and fumbled up the stairs.

"Dean, take this!" Sam yelled, popping his head out from the hatch.

Dean let go of the wheel, and made his way over to Sam.

"Put it on!"

"What about you?" Dean asked, hesitating to take the vest.

"I'm going back to look for another. Just take it! I called for help but I don't know if they heard me."

Dean put it on and carefully made his way back to the wheel.

Sam tried to get down the stairs again, but he pitched forward. He tumbled down the stairs and was thrown against the other side of the wall by the momentum of the waves rocking the boat. He lay there, dazed. He could feel the warm trickle of blood, coming down the side of his face. A mind numbing paid shot through his shoulder and his ribs ached, in the place where they must have connected with the wall. Just then, Sam felt another wave slam into the boat. He was sent tumbling forward. He knew they were going over and he had to get above deck.

Dean knew it was futile. There was no way they were going to get the boat back to shore. He hoped someone had heard the distress call on the radio. They needed help and fast.

He turned around and actually saw the wave before it hit. It truthfully was an awe inspiring sight, just as an avalanche is to someone who sees it on TV. However, this was reality and the wave was about to crash into the boat that he was on.

The force of the wave immediately tipped the boat, and sent Dean overboard. He hit the cold water with a splash. All he could think about was the cold and he forgot what was happening for a minute. Luckily the life jacket sent him straight to the surface. Then it hit him. Where was Sam?

He had managed to get above deck, hadn't he? He couldn't remember. The fear was preventing him from thinking clearly.

"Sam! Sammy!" Dean screamed.

A wave crashed over his head, pulling him under. Once again the life jacket was his saving grace. He surfaced, sputtering and coughing.

"Sammy! Sam!" He yelled again, when he had caught his breath.

His only answer was the roar of the waves.

**TBC**

Please let me know what you think :)**  
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	2. Sinking

A/N: Wow thank-you so much to everyone for the reviews! I was not expecting a response like that. It made my week. To the people I couldn't individually respond to, thank-you as well. I'm a bit nervous about this chapter so I hope you like it.

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Sam made it to the top of the stairs, a moment before the boat went over. The hatch had snapped closed on him, probably from the gusting wind he could hear whistling down the opening a moment before. He tried pushing it with his hands but it wouldn't budge. He had no choice but to use his injured shoulder as leverage. He bit his lip to keep from crying out as he pushed it into the hatch. It came open, surprising Sam and nearly knocking him backward. Suddenly, he felt the boat going sideways and he clung to the top of the opening for dear life. He was unprepared for the gush of water that came flooding in, clogging his nose. He tried to take a breath, but he swallowed large mouthfuls of water instead. He realized he was now completely submerged underwater. He lost all sense of perception, his only thought was to get to the surface. His shoulder was useless so he used his good arm to push himself halfway out of the opening. However, he found himself unable to move any further. He was caught on something. He held on to the side to try to yank his coat free, but it was no use. He knew he couldn't get the jacket off. There was no room. He realized with startling clarity that he was going to drown. He tried again to free himself, his lungs screaming for air. He found himself calling out the name of the one person he knew would help him. He managed a soundless "D" before it died on his lips and the darkness claimed him. His last breath rose to the surface as a bubble, which broke and then disappeared. 

oooooooo

"Sammy!" Dean screamed again in desperation.

Dean forced his head under the water, in a frantic search for Sam. He could barely see anything under the dark water. The sun was going down, and there was hardly any light at all. The boat was almost completely submerged. It was tipped on its side, but part of it was still visible. Dean struggled to get closer to it. He knew that there was a possibility that Sam had not been thrown overboard and was still below deck, stuck in that hatch.

When he was close enough to the boat, he dove. He made it only a couple feet before the life vest pushed him back up. He soon realized that it was going to be more of a hindrance than a help to him now. He struggled to unbuckle it as wave after wave pummeled him. He tossed it aside and kicked off, pushing himself under the boat. At first he couldn't really tell which end was which. His eyes stung from the salt water and he struggled to see. He couldn't hold his breath any longer and he pushed himself back to the surface.

The waves were still crashing over him relentlessly and he tried to hold on to the slippery surface of the part of the boat that was still above water. He took a quick breath and pushed himself back under. This time he felt around. He could feel the steering wheel of the boat so he knew that he was at the front of it. He went the other way, until he felt what he thought could possibly be hair. He strained to focus his eyes and he saw what looked like seaweed fanned out, when he quickly realized it was Sam's brown mop of hair. He saw his brother was stuck, halfway in and halfway out of the hatch. His head hung limply forward, one arm bobbing in the water. Dean pulled his free arm with all his might but Sam didn't budge. Dean's vision blurred as his lungs demanded air. He reluctantly went back to the surface, feeling the bitter sting of defeat. Blind panic set in and he wondered if it was too late for his brother.

Damn it, he thought as he shot to the surface. Every second Sam was underwater was another second that he was being denied precious air. He didn't waste any time. He took a quick breath and went back under. He found his way back to Sam faster this time. He realized Sam was snagged on something and he yanked his jacket with his hands. A piece of the jacket ripped away and Dean knew he was free. He grabbed Sam's arm again and pulled, his brother coming free from the hatch. He put his arms under Sam's armpits and kicked to the surface. He came up with a gasp, Sam now feeling like a dead weight in his arms. He knew Sam wasn't breathing but he had no idea if he had a pulse or not. He put his fingers against Sam's neck. His skin felt slimy to the touch and Dean shuddered. He thought he felt a sluggish beat but he couldn't be sure with the way they were still being tossed around. He positioned one of his arms under Sam's head and pinched Sam's nose with his other hand. He tried breathing air into his oxygen deprived lungs. He gave Sam three breaths when he realized he was losing his hold on him and Sam's head was again slipping under the water, the strength of the waves no match for him. He reached his arm out to pull Sam up, but a wave pushed him back and away from his brother.

"Sam!" Dean cried, struggling to keep his eyes on where his brother went. He spied something floating up ahead and swam as fast as he could towards it. He was dismayed to see that it was not Sam but the life jacket he had discarded earlier.

He tried not to get swept away by the abject terror that was clouding his thinking. He used the life jacket to buoy himself and did a sweep of the water in front of him. He saw what looked like a hand and he didn't think. He just swam.

He pulled Sam into his arms, and clung to him like he was a life preserver. In essence, Sam was the only thing that could keep him from sinking. Losing him was not an option.

Acting quickly, he grabbed the life jacket and hurriedly tried to get it on Sam.

With the life jacket in place, Dean treaded water and again gave Sam more breaths.

"Come on Sammy. You can do it," He said in between breaths.

Sam still wasn't breathing, his lips so blue that they were unsettling to look at. He looked almost gray and Dean recalled Sam on a bed with no life in him just as he was now. He thought of how unfair it would be to lose Sam again just six months later. He felt something track down his face and he tasted salt on his lips. He knew it wasn't the water.

He gave Sam breath after breath, the storm now becoming background noise, his sole focus on his baby brother.

"Breathe Sammy. Please," He begged.

He was finally rewarded when Sam coughed weakly, choking up some of the sea water. Dean carefully rolled him on his side so Sam could expel the water.

"Thatta boy Sammy," He said, shakily.

When Sam had finished coughing up the water, he waited to see if he would wake up, but he didn't stir. Sam's face was still so pale, that it looked almost translucent under the rising moonlight. He noticed that Sam had a gash on the side of his head, the blood standing out against the stark whiteness of his skin.

Dean realized that the storm had died down a great deal and it was no longer raining. However they were drifting. Dean held tight to Sam, also using the life jacket to keep himself afloat. It was now completely dark out. The weather was clearing, and stars dotted the sky. He was thankful that the weather was warm or else they'd be at risk for hypothermia. He looked down at Sam who was still unconscious.

"Sammy. Sammy," He pleaded, but he received no response.

He had no idea how serious Sam's injuries were and whether or not he could survive without immediate medical help. Sam was still breathing though and he held on to that glimmer of hope and let it be his beacon like the faint stars in the sky were guiding lights after the storm.

The water was calmer now, almost soothing as it rocked them back and forth. Dean thought vaguely of rocking Sam in his arms as a baby and how sometimes he was the only one who could get Sam to sleep. What he wanted most of all now was for Sam to just wake up.

Dean wasn't sure how long they were in the water, but he was nearing the end of his endurance when he looked up to see what looked like land about 100 yards in front of him. The starlight and the moon were illuminating what looked to be a stretch of rock on a shoreline. Feeling a sudden burst of energy, he wrapped his arm around Sam and began swimming towards it.

His arms and legs burned with exertion by the time he realized he could now stand in the water. They had made it to shore. Dean stood up and again hooked his arms under Sam's armpits, dragging him to the shore. He placed him on the sand where he knew the water could not come up and drench him. He carefully removed the life vest and collapsed on the sand next to Sam. His eyelids were so heavy that he quickly gave into sleep.

oooooooo

He came awake with a start. He heard seagulls calling loudly and the night's events came back to him in a rush. He couldn't believe he had let himself fall asleep. He looked to the right of him and was relieved to see Sam next to him. However, he quickly realized that Sam had not moved since they had landed on shore. He rushed to his brother's side.

"Sammy!" Dean yelled, kneeling down beside him. He gently patted Sam's cheek.

Dean was relieved to see Sam's eyebrows furrow in confusion or possibly pain. Sam opened his eyes slowly, giving him a bleary eyed look.

Dean took off his flannel shirt, and walked to the edge of the water. He balled it up and dipped it in. He went back to Sam and began to wipe at the cut on the side of Sam's head. It looked like it could use a few stitches but at least the bleeding had stopped.

"The boat sank," Dean said, trying to fill in the blanks for Sam. "We made it to shore."

"How long have we been here?" Sam asked, his voice raspy from disuse and the copious amounts of water he swallowed. He flinched away from the salt water that burned his wound.

"I don't know, a few hours maybe," Dean answered.

"Then how come your eyebrows are white?" Sam asked in genuine confusion.

"What?" Dean exclaimed, rubbing at his eyebrows. He realized they were caked in salt and noticed that Sam's were as well.

"You should see yours grandpa," Dean said, smugly. "How are you feeling?" Dean asked, noting Sam's pained expression.

"Like I got flushed down a toilet," Sam said, as he tried to use his right arm to push himself up into a sitting position.

"Ahhh!" Sam shrieked, as his arm collapsed under the weight.

"Talk to me Sammy," Dean said, startled by his brother's yelp of pain.

"I think I dislocated my shoulder," Sam said through clenched teeth.

"Do you want me to put it back into place for you?" Dean asked carefully, knowing how much pain it would cause his brother. Sam's shoulder had dislocated quite a few times over the last few months. Apparently it was some kind of side effect from what happened with Jake.

"Just get it over with," Sam said breathlessly, his eyes clenched shut against the pain.

Dean carefully maneuvered Sam into a sitting position. He grabbed Sam's injured right arm and bent it at the elbow, pointing Sam's hand upward.

Sam visibly paled and bit his lip so hard that he tasted blood.

Dean then grabbed Sam's shoulder with his other hand and pulled Sam's arm backward in one fluid motion. He heard the bone slide back into place as Sam let out an earth shattering scream that echoed around them.

"Sam, it's okay," Dean said, trying to calm his brother. "I'm going to wrap it."

Sam nodded shakily, sweat now mixed in with the dirt and blood on the side of his face.

Dean used the balled up shirt and fashioned it around Sam, so his injured limb was secured against his chest.

"Thanks," Sam, said tiredly. Dean grabbed his good arm to help him and Sam slowly stood up, taking in his surroundings. His ribs protested the movement. He had a notion that some of his ribs were either badly bruised or potentially broken but he opted not to tell Dean about it. Dean looked worried enough about the cut on his head and his shoulder.

They appeared to be in a wooded area. Sunlight broke through the dense expanse of trees. Sam figured it was most likely early morning based on the color of the sky, but he didn't have any real way of knowing. His watch had stopped because of the water.

"We probably should get moving," Dean declared matter of factly.

"I don't think we should. We aren't even sure what's out there."

"For all we know, there could be a road just through those trees," Dean said, giving him a stern look. "This place could be another island with civilization up ahead."

"But I left that distress call. People could be looking for us. If we move, they won't find us."

"What was that in the Boy Scouts' handbook? You weren't a Boy Scout, remember Sammy? Besides, we have no clue if anyone even got that distress call and our cellphones are ruined so we can't call for help. Come on," Dean said, beginning to walk towards the trees.

Sam slouched in defeat as he once again began to follow Dean. He was beginning to feel like this was becoming some pointless game of follow the leader.

oooooooo

They walked for what seemed like hours. Sam knew it wasn't that long but it felt like it for him, every step jostling his shoulder and his ribs. They were walking when they noticed their climb was becoming more uphill. Dean guessed that at the top of the incline, they'd find that road and this would all be a bad memory in a little while.

"We can rest here for a bit," Dean said. "Then walk the rest of the way up."

Sam gratefully flopped down on the ground. He was exhausted. His head was pounding and he longed for something to drink.

"I am so thirsty. All this water and not a bit of it fresh," Sam said, disappointedly looking out at the water which was still visible at their higher elevation.

"Well we'll be back in civilization pretty soon and you can drink all you want. I'm personally looking forward to something a bit stronger than water, if you know what I mean," Dean said with a smirk. "We'll keep going in another five minutes."

Sam inwardly groaned. The whole situation felt like déjà vu. He wanted to wait, to learn more about what was going on but Dean wanted to go. He felt his heart pounding painfully against his sore ribs. Dean wasn't watching the clock but he felt it tick down with every beat of his heart and it left him with an ache that threatened to consume him at times. Six months was all they had. His heartbeat had cost his brother his soul. It felt like a weighted clock in his chest, and a constant reminder that time was running out. Dean hadn't mentioned the fight they had on the boat but it was still very fresh in his mind. Dean calling him selfish stung a bit and maybe it was true in some way, but he couldn't help it. He wanted to save people, but he wanted Dean to be one of the people saved too. He thought back to the hunt when Dean had exorcised the demon. The thing had set the room on fire but Dean insisted on staying until he sent it back to hell. The girl that was possessed hadn't made it and he wondered if it was worth it. If that made him selfish, then so be it. Was it really worth it to kill all these demons if Dean ended up in hell with them?

He wanted time to research, time to find something to get Dean out of it. He wanted time and time was the one thing he didn't have. He was letting Dean down. Dean had given so much for him and he might not be able to do the same. Dean was always in a hurry. It was if he was rushing things when all he wanted was to savor the moments he had left with his brother. He jumped feet first into everything lately. He thought back to the hunt before this one. Dean was sure it was a demon when he read about the two people disappearing. They were possessed, he was sure of it. When they got to the house they tracked it to, Sam had suggested they hold off a bit and not make any sudden moves. Dean had kicked open the door and they discovered it wasn't a demon at all. The vengeful spirit attacked them immediately. The memory was painful for him.

_He saw the knife fly at Dean._

"_Dean look out!" He cried._

_Dean turned to the side, the knife lodging itself in the wall right where Dean had been standing seconds before. _

_In the moment before Dean moved out of the way, Sam envisioned a world without his brother and his heart threatened to shatter._

They later found the people dead in the basement. Dean was all bravado, dismissing Sam's worries and acting like there was never any real danger.

He felt something tickling his hand and he saw a small beetle crawling on it. He went to smack it but he hesitated. Might be someone's brother, he mused, shaking his hand and watching it walk off. It reminded him of how painfully fragile life was and how in an instant, someone could be gone. He turned his attention to the water. The tide was coming in and he thought of their footprints on the shore being washed away. In six months, Dean would be taken away like the tide, then it would come back in and life would continue on without him. Like the footprints that were no longer there, all traces of Dean would be erased. The only memories would be the ones that Sam had of him. No one would know the person that Dean was, the guy who gave up his soul so he could live. He felt hot tears suddenly sting his eyes and he tucked his head in his arm, afraid that Dean might see.

"You sleeping there Sammy?" Dean asked, interrupting his thoughts.

"No, no I'm awake," Sam answered.

"Well let's get going then. Maybe we can get out of here before they stop serving breakfast at the diners."

Sam gingerly got to his feet. They continued on until they made it to the top of the incline and once again were on flat land.

Sam couldn't believe it. There wasn't a road at all, just more dense woods, surrounding them on all sides.

"Well crap," Dean replied.

"That's all you can say?" Sam asked, flabbergasted.

"I guess we just have to keep going."

"Keep going? Further into the woods? Are you crazy? I told you we should stay put!" Sam shouted, irritably.

"You know Sammy, I don't know what's gotten into you. I'm getting pretty tired of your sit on your ass approach to everything lately. Get your head out of your ass and quit acting so mopey. I'm the one that's dying here, not you!"

Sam didn't think. He just reacted. He swung his left arm, punching Dean across the jaw. He rounded on Dean, staring him down.

Dean's hand went up to his lip, checking for blood.

"You got me there Sammy," Dean stated with a humorless laugh. "Maybe the demon was right after all."

"Right about what?" Sam questioned, not backing down.

"You sure you can handle this one? You want all the answers do you? That's why you want to spend all your time in front of the computer. Well the demon said you came back wrong and I'm starting to wonder if you did!" Dean exclaimed.

Sam eyebrows shot up in shock. He was so stunned, that he actually physically backed up to the edge of the incline. His foot slid on some rocks and he suddenly lost his footing. He tried to catch himself but having only one good arm, he was unable to regain his balance. Dean reached out an arm to try to steady him but it was too late. He watched in horror as Sam fell backward and rolled out of his sight.

TBC**  
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	3. Going Under

A/N: Thank-you to everyone for the continued support of the story. Your reviews are all greatly appreciated. Again, to anyone I couldn't respond to, thank-you too. I'm sorry this chapter took so long in coming but I hope it was worth the wait.

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The moment the words left his mouth and he saw the look of anguish cross Sam's features, he regretted it. But then Sam was falling backward and he was powerless to stop it. He had reached out an arm to grab him but Sam had already gone over. He felt like he had pushed him himself.

He frantically began making his way down the incline, petrified about what he would find at the bottom. He didn't care how Sam came back, just as long as he got him back. He slid most of the way down, using his hand to keep himself from descending too fast. He barely noticed as most of the skin was ripped away from his palm. Branches scratched at his arms but he didn't feel it. He wanted to get to Sam as fast as he could but at the same time, he had to make sure that he didn't end up hurt as well. He would be no good to Sam if he was injured too.

He called Sam's name the whole way down, wondering if it would be worse to hear screams of pain or just the absolute silence he heard now. He decided the silence scared him more. He found Sam, sprawled and prone about a quarter of the way from the bottom of the incline. He rushed over to him and knelt down, anxiously flipping him over so he could get a look at his face. He knew it wasn't the best idea to be moving him in his condition but right now he only cared about making sure his brother was still alive.

Sam was unconscious, the wound on his head bleeding freely once more. He also had numerous cuts and abrasions on his face as a result of falling down the hill. Some of the cuts still contained bits of gravel and he winced for Sam. He felt for a pulse and let out a sigh of relief when he realized Sam still had one. He was thankful he had not fallen the whole way down or else he might not have made it. He began checking for other injuries on Sam. He noticed his leg looked twisted and misshapen.

"Jesus Sam," He mumbled as he went to check the damage. He had barely touched Sam's leg when he shot awake with a gasp.

"Don't touch it!" Sam yelled, reaching out for his leg. He let out a groan as his good arm went up to protect his ribs and he flopped back down on the ground. He knew any ribs that were just bruised before were now most definitely broken.

"What is it Sam? Is it your ribs too?" Dean asked as he moved to pull up Sam's shirt to check.

Sam weakly tried to bat Dean away but Dean succeeded in checking his ribs.

"You hurt your ribs on the boat didn't you?" Dean asked, as he saw what looked like some older and fresh bruises on Sam's torso.

"Yeah I did," Sam admitted, as he brought up an arm to shield his eyes. The intense pain combined with the sun in his eyes was making his stomach roll uncomfortably.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Dean asked as he gently pressed on Sam's ribs.

"Didn't want to worry you," Sam answered as he flinched against the pain.

Suddenly Sam shot up again, all color draining from his face.

"What is it?" Dean asked in alarm.

Sam looked as if he had just seen a ghost.

"I…I feel something on my leg. I…I think it's bleeding," Sam stuttered.

Dean went back to checking Sam's leg and sure enough, he could see a dark red spot forming on his pant leg.

"Sam, I need to check your leg. It's going to hurt," Dean said offhandedly, feeling like it was the understatement of the century. It wasn't just going to hurt. It was going to be sheer agony.

"I know," Sam nodded, his eyes clouded with pain and unshed tears.

Dean pulled his knife from its ankle sheath, thankful it hadn't been lost in the storm. He carefully began cutting Sam's pants in the location of the blood. He could feel Sam tense up under his ministrations.

After he had cut his jeans about halfway up his leg, Dean began rolling up the material. He felt bile rise up in his throat when he saw the damage to Sam's leg. Both the bones in Sam's leg were broken and sticking through his skin.

"How is it?" Sam asked, fear lacing his voice.

He sounded about five years old and Dean ached.

"It's not even that bad," He said, and the memory that hit him sent him reeling. He had said that before and it was a lie just as it was now. He knew how easily these things got infected and he had no idea when he'd be able to get Sam to a hospital.

He couldn't wallow in self pity now though. He had to do what he could do for Sam now. He stood up, pulling one of his T shirts over his head. He took his knife and began cutting it in strips. He'd stabilize Sam's leg now and then he'd take him down to the water to tend to his other wounds. He didn't even want to think of the pain that would cause Sam right now. There was a reason for the expression 'pouring salt in the wound.'

Sam's eyes followed him the whole time. Dean could see such trust in those eyes and he burned with shame. He didn't get Sam sometimes, how he could manage to still have such faith in him when it was his fault that they were in this mess. He had made Sam go below deck, causing his first set of injuries. Then he had said the most awful thing he could think of and caused him to fall backward and break his leg. At least the last time he had said something terrible like that, he had been mind controlled by Andy. He had no excuse this time. Sure Sam had punched him but he doubted that was as painful as his words or the misery his brother was in now. He only hoped that Sam didn't remember the events before the fall. They still hadn't discussed their fight on the boat either and Dean wished Sam had forgotten that one too.

"I'm going to get some branches to stabilize your leg. Then we will make our way back to the bottom."

Sam barely acknowledged him and Dean worried if maybe he didn't understand what he was saying. He noticed the thin sheen of sweat covering Sam's face and he feared Sam could be going into shock. He knew he couldn't let that happen or it would be fatal.

"You sure you're with me Sammy?" Dean questioned.

"Yeah I'm here."

"Well I'll be right back."

He walked a few feet and began sawing some twigs off of the smaller trees to use as a brace for Sam. When he had what he needed, he made his way back over to him. He knelt down, placing two branches on either side of Sam's leg. Sam had turned his head away and Dean knew he was doing it to mask the pain that was evident on his face. He used the strips from his shirt to secure the sticks and to cover the wound. Dean could see it wasn't bleeding so much. The bones had most likely not severed any arteries and he was thankful for small favors. Once the brace was in place, he took another strip from his shirt and fastened it around Sam's head to staunch the flow of blood from his wound. He had some leftover strips and he put them in his pocket for later. After that, he fixed the binding on Sam's arm too since it had become loose in the fall. When that was finished, Dean tried to mentally prepare himself for the monumental task of getting Sam back down the rest of the way to the bottom.

Sam's face was still turned away from him but he thought he saw some moisture near his eyes, on the side of his face, reflecting in the sun. He pretended not to notice. If Sam didn't want him to know he was crying, then he would pretend he hadn't seen. He didn't think Sam had anything to be ashamed of though. He found it a testament to Sam that he had even remained conscious while he worked on his leg

"Sam, are you ready?" Dean asked tentatively. He knew Sam was far from ready. The only thing Sam was ready for was a stay in the hospital but he knew he shouldn't waste time in cleaning his wound.

He reached down and grabbed Sam's free hand. He pulled Sam up as carefully as he could. Sam hopped around on his good right leg for a second while Dean wrapped Sam's left arm around his neck and he secured his own right hand on Sam's waist to steady him. Sam swayed dangerously on his feet at first and Dean had to take a moment to let him get his bearings. When Sam was as steady as he was going to be, they began their trek to the bottom.

oooooooo

Sam dizzily looked down the incline. It probably wouldn't seem that far to someone who was in good shape, but for him, it might as well have been Mt. Everest. He was in agony. Every hop on his good leg sent spikes of pain through his broken ribs. A few times they slid on some loose dirt and he swore he could feel the bones in his broken leg rubbing against each other. The thought of it nearly made him retch.

He had an iron like grip around Dean's neck and he was surprised he wasn't crying out in pain himself. He looked down at the water ahead of him and watched the waves come in and go out. He used it to focus his breathing. In and out. He could do this.

He felt clammy and sweaty, part of it exertion and part of it something else. He knew that the something else was fear, fear over what Dean had said. It had been bad enough to discover he had demon blood in him. He couldn't even bring himself to tell Dean about it. Then he might be forced to tell him that he saw their mother knew the demon. He could never do that to his brother and ruin his image of their mom. He had to know more first before he said anything. Now he had come to discover that Dean had been hiding a secret of his own. He remembered that night and being stuck against that tree, pinned and unable to move. The demon had been talking to Dean, their voices drowned out by the sounds of the demons being released around him.

The demon was dead and he wanted so much to take some solace in that but he was far from at peace. He still had this demon blood in him and he had no idea what it meant. Now there was a chance he had come back wrong too. Climbing down the hill didn't seem quite so hard or painful compared to the emotional battle he fought inside himself.

oooooooo

When they made it the bottom, Dean gently placed Sam down on the ground. He felt like he had been dragging Sam towards the end, as he got weaker and weaker and was unable to hold himself upright. He wished he had something comfortable to put Sam down on but he didn't.

He stretched his back muscles and rolled his head around, his own neck sore from the tricky walk down the incline. He needed something to put water in so he could tend to Sam's wounds. He spied a shell lying on the sand that looked like it might be deep and hollow enough. He walked to the water and dipped it in, filling it up. He felt the water sting his own scraped palm and knew it was nothing compared to the suffering Sam was about to endure.

He walked over to Sam, knelt down and untied the strips on his leg. He poured the water over Sam's wound. Sam let out a bloodcurdling scream and Dean felt like it penetrated his soul.

"I'm sorry Sammy," He said, his voice hitching.

He noticed Sam had gone deathly still and the fear stole his breath away.

"Sam!" He yelled, once again checking his pulse. He realized Sam had reached the peak of his pain tolerance and had passed out. He didn't have the heart to even attempt to wake him up. He only hoped Sam would stay out while he cleaned his wound more thoroughly.

He continued to go back and forth to the water to refill the shell. He flushed out Sam's wound until he felt he had removed as much dirt and debris from it as he could. He then took the leftover shirt strips from his pocket and dipped them in the water as well. The head wound had once again stopped bleeding, leaving a sticky mess in Sam's hair. He cleaned the cut up a bit again and then redid the bandage. He then went to work on cleaning up the scrapes on Sam's face, trying to dislodge some of the gravel. He managed to get it all out, grateful that none of it was lodged too deep. The whole time, Sam remained unconscious. Dean checked his breathing every few minutes. Sam's pulse seemed a bit fast but he figured it was due to his injuries.

By the time he had Sam settled, Dean realized the sun was once again going down in the sky. His stomach rumbled and his throat was parched. It had been over 24 hours since he had anything to eat or drink. He had a momentary flash of worms but decided he wasn't hungry enough to go 'Fear Factor' style yet.

The temperature was going down now and the air was slightly cooler. He knew it would be a good idea to start a fire in case the temperature dropped even more. His lighter was useless so he knew he was going to have to do it the old fashioned way by rubbing two sticks together. He quickly rustled up some sticks and some leaves to ignite the fire. He was thankful that his dad had taught them survival skills including starting a fire when a lighter wasn't handy. Sam had wanted to join Cub Scouts when he was young and he and his dad had scoffed at the idea. They didn't see the point. Everyday was a lesson in survival for them. The thought of young Sam being turned down made him feel suddenly empty, a reminder of just how much Sam had been denied in life. He rubbed the sticks together more furiously and was rewarded with a slight spark. He got it to catch on the leaves and was pleased to see the fire jump to life even more. He could feel the warmth on his skin. He glanced over at Sam, the glow of the flames making him look even more drawn in the yellow light.

Sam still had not woken up yet. It worried him a bit but he knew Sam was injured and exhaustion had probably taken over. He figured he might as well get some rest too. He settled on the ground and allowed the crackling of the fire to lull him into sleep.

oooooooo

The first thing his conscious mind registered was a clicking noise. He soon realized that it was coming from the direction of Sam and he jumped up and went over to his side.

"Damn it!" He cursed when he realized what it was. Sam was shivering violently, his teeth chattering together. The fire had gone out but he knew that was not the reason why. He put his hand on Sam's head and could feel the heat emanating from his body. Sam had a fever which most likely meant his leg was already infected.

Sam began to wake with Dean's touch and he looked up at Dean, his eyes bright with fever. Dean didn't say anything to him. He just went to the water, rewetting the strips of his shirt to put on Sam to bring the fever down. He placed them on Sam's forehead over the bandage. He then went to see what he could do about the fire.

Once, he had the fire going again, he sat down beside Sam, finally acknowledging him instead of just his injuries.

"How are you feeling?" He asked. He hated that question. It was obvious Sam felt like shit.

"I'm freezing," Sam said, tremors still wracking his body.

"How's the pain?"

Another no brainer, Dean thought agitatedly. They were out in the middle of nowhere without a pain killer for who knew how many miles and it pissed him off that he could do nothing to alleviate his brother's pain.

"S'okay," Sam slurred.

It was times like these that he hated the Sam Winchester way of dealing with pain: Lie and deny. Lie about his injuries and deny he was in any pain at all.

"Sam, I have to check your leg," He stated. Sam could lie or deny all he wanted but he knew it was going to hurt like hell.

He gently undid the strips on the brace, watching Sam's face for signs of distress the whole time. Sam's face remained stoic but he could feel the minute twitches in Sam's leg as he reacted to the pain. He could see that the wound was red around the edges and he knew it would only get worse if he didn't get to a hospital soon. He also knew he was going to have to clean the wound again to prevent the infection from worsening. He walked again to the edge of the water and filled the shell up.

He hesitated before he poured it on to Sam's leg, his gaze locking with Sam's. Once again, he saw that absolute trust there and also permission from Sam to do what was necessary. He poured the water on to the wound, not fully prepared for the violent reaction it elicited from Sam. Sam let out a pained yell and flipped on to his side. He attempted to curl into a fetal position as if he was trying to fold in on himself, hoping it would somehow dull the pain. He also began retching uncontrollably. There wasn't much for him to throw up but Dean could imagine the pain it was causing his broken ribs. He rushed forward, rubbing circles on Sam's back. Sam suddenly gripped his hand tightly and Dean didn't let go. He began whispering a litany of words that he hoped would be comforting in some way. Most of it was words of encouragement reassuring Sam that he would be okay. He knew that he was trying to convince Sam as well as himself.

They stayed that way for awhile until Sam turned over again on his back. He let go of Dean's hand and clenched his hand into a fist in front of him. Dean could see he was trying to ride out the pain. He returned to Sam's leg and secured the wrapping again as fast as he could. He noticed Sam wasn't shivering as much anymore and he moved to check his forehead. He still felt very hot to the touch but he hoped the cool water had brought his temperature down at least somewhat. Sam looked up at him tiredly and he could see he was close to falling asleep again. He clenched his jaw in frustration that Sam couldn't have been blessed with blissful unconsciousness like before and was falling asleep only _after_ experiencing all that pain. He wet the strips again and placed them back on Sam's head as his eyes slipped closed. As he slept, he hoped Sam was granted a small reprieve from the pain. He somehow doubted that though by the way Sam's eyebrows seemed to knit together in pain even while he slept.

oooooooo

Sam awoke a couple hours later, feeling like he had just been hit by a truck. Every inch of him ached but it was nothing compared to the shooting pain he felt in his leg every time he dared to move a muscle. His lips felt like sandpaper. He attempted to lick his lips trying to bring some moisture to them but his mouth was so dry that he had to pry his tongue off the roof of his mouth. He would have killed for a glass of water at that moment.

"It's good to see you're awake."

Sam turned his head in the direction of Dean's voice. He was sitting off to his right watching him intently, a look of concern on his face.

"You passed out before when I was…Then you had a fever and…," Dean stuttered, unable to even rehash what had happened to Sam for fear he'd be assaulted with unwanted memories. "You remember all that?"

"Yeah I do," Sam answered softly.

"I built a fire," Dean said, gesturing to the still burning flames. "How's that for some Boy Scout skills?" Dean asked, trying to lighten the mood.

"I thought you said the Boy Scouts were a bunch of sissies," Sam said, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Well you have to admit anyone who wears a scarf tied around their neck is just asking to get their ass kicked."

"Says you Florence," Sam retorted.

"Florence?" Dean asked, in confusion.

"You know. Florence Nightingale," Sam deadpanned, his eyes twinkling.

"Amateur comeback Sammy. I won't hold it against you though considering your weakened state," Dean said with a smirk. "I won't even point out that you look like you are doing a poor imitation of The Karate Kid," Dean said, referring to the strip he had tied around Sam's head. "You even have the crane stance down," Dean added, standing up and demonstrating a one legged stance.

"If being injured is an excuse for my jokes, how do you explain yours?" Sam asked, a chuckle escaping his lips. He brought up a hand to cradle his sore ribs, the laugh pulling uncomfortably on them.

Dean knew that Sam was far from out of the woods but his behavior cheered him. He was happy to see Sam looking more alert and making jokes, even if they were extremely lame ones at his expense.

Sam attempted to get into a sitting position but it was near impossible. Dean went to his side to help him up. Sam brought his hand up to the makeshift bandage and strips around his head and he gingerly pulled them off, his hand feeling the dried blood in his hair. He could also feel some vomit there from when he had thrown up earlier. He grimaced at the thought. He probed the scrapes on his face as well.

"Maybe we should write something in the sand," Sam said, breathlessly, the effort of sitting up already almost draining him of his energy. He was sweating now, the fever making him hot instead of cold.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, curiously.

"In case they are looking for us. They can see it from the air."

Dean shrugged, considering it.

"I guess it couldn't hurt," Dean said. "It's not like we can go back uphill. Let me go find a stick."

Dean spent the next several minutes, writing 'Help Us' in large letters in the sand. Once he was finished, he surveyed his work.

"What do you think Sammy? Does it get the Geekboy seal of approval?" Dean asked, jokingly.

"Yeah it's great," Sam said, approvingly.

Dean returned and began adding more sticks to the fire to keep it burning.

"I can't wait to get out of here," He said, settling back down on the sand. "I have sand everywhere, even in.—"

"Dude too much information!" Sam exclaimed, cutting him off.

Dean laughed and held up his hands in mock surrender.

"What's the first thing you want once we get back to civilization?" Dean asked, seriously.

"Water," Sam said, simply.

"Come on Sammy! Think big!" Dean exclaimed.

"Okay two glasses of water," Sam said, with a half grin that brought out the dimple in his cheek.

"You're killing me here," Dean groaned. "See I could just say I want a shower and some food, but instead I want a soak in a nice hot tub and a juicy cheeseburger with lots and lots of—'

Dean stopped midsentence, noticing Sam suddenly looking uncomfortable.

"What is it?" Dean asked, a look of consternation crossing his face.

"I have to go to the bathroom," Sam said, in embarrassment.

Dean knew there was no way Sam could do it on his own. He tried to make as little of a deal of it as possible. He helped Sam get to his feet, noticing that he felt even more unsteady than before. He walked him to a nearby expanse of trees and looked away as Sam did his business. Sam's face looked flushed, and Dean suspected it was not only from being upright but also because he was slightly embarrassed.

"Dean I want to clean up a bit," Sam said as they made their way back to the fire. "I have blood and puke in my hair. I feel all sweaty and gross. "

"Okay I'll get some water and—"

"No I want to do it myself," Sam said firmly.

"Oh. Then I'll set you down close to the water," Dean said, getting the hint. He wasn't thrilled about the idea but he had to let his brother have some sense of independence. There was very little he could do on his own at the moment.

He helped Sam to the edge of the water, positioning him so he had access to the water, but would not get wet. He then walked a short distance away and pretended to make himself useful near the fire, but also where he could keep a good eye on him.

Sam spied a shell, similar to the one Dean had used to clean his leg and he filled it with water. He poured it over the sticky part of his hair in an attempt to clean some of the dried blood, dirt, and vomit out. The water dripped down his face and he thought it felt wonderful on his sweaty and feverish skin. The movement put pressure on his sore ribs and he coughed slightly. However, he still poured more water on to his hair and face. Some of it fell on his cracked and dried lips. It reminded him again of just how thirsty he was and the coughing spell only made it worse. He refilled the shell and brought it to his lips, taking a sip of the water. He barely noticed the taste of the salt. All he could feel was the delicious coolness coating his arid mouth. He knew deep down it wasn't a good idea but he couldn't stop himself. He looked to the side and Dean seemed to be watching the fire. He refilled the shell and drank the contents again. He repeated this quite a few times but none of it was enough to completely quench his thirst.

"You alright there Sam?"

He heard Dean calling him and he stopped.

"Yeah I'm fine," Sam said quickly.

Dean walked back over and brought him back near the fire. They both rested for awhile. Dean needed to help him to the bathroom a couple more times during the day and some of those times, he had again asked to be put near the water so he could clean up. He was really just using that as an excuse so he could sip on the cool water. However, he noticed the more he drank, the thirstier he became.

oooooooo

The next day, Dean sat whittling away at a stick with his knife, fashioning the tip into a point. Sam was still sleeping, occasionally murmuring feverishly in his sleep. He was slightly worried that Sam hasn't woken up to be taken to the bathroom at all during the night. He knew they both were suffering from dehydration and no longer going to the bathroom was a bad sign. He continued to watch Sam sleep when he saw his eyes crack open, and dazedly look over at him. He got to his feet, fighting against the lightheadedness he felt.

"Check this out Sammy," he said holding up the stick for his inspection. "Now all I need is to carve a bow and if we get attacked by anything, we'll be totally prepared."

Sam's eyes barely seemed to focus on him.

"I'm so hot," He rasped out.

Dean tossed the stick aside and put his hand on Sam's forehead and could feel that he was burning up. However, Sam wasn't sweating at all.

"Shit," He cursed. Not sweating was another bad sign.

He looked at Sam's face, noticing how much worse he looked this morning. Sam's face was completely bleached of color. His eyes were sunken in and dull, practically devoid of life.

"I need some water," Sam said, his eyes wandering aimlessly around in his head.

"I know Sammy but we don't have any right now."

"Yes we do. We can drink that water," He said, vaguely gesturing in the direction of the ocean.

"No we can't. That will just dehydrate you that much faster. Now come on," Dean said, attempting to pull Sam to his feet.

"Get it off of me!" Sam screamed, suddenly thrashing out.

"What is it?" Dean asked, anxiously. He was forced to let go of him.

"It's crawling on me! Please!" Sam begged in desperation.

Dean looked frantically around for whatever was crawling on Sam. He thought maybe it was a bug of some kind but he couldn't see anything. He didn't know whether it was in Sam's head or the thing had crawled off. He pretended to brush off the offending object.

"It's gone okay?" He placated.

"Thank-you Dean," Sam said, relieved.

Dean again attempted to hoist Sam to his feet but then he keeled over and began retching uncontrollably. However, nothing was coming up.

"I have to get it up Dean," Sam said, spitting on the ground.

"Get what up?"

"The demon blood. I have to get it out of me," Sam said, his eyes wide with fear.

Dean had no idea what his brother was talking about. He wondered if the fever was making him delusional. He had to get Sam's temperature down.

He finally yanked Sam up. He was practically dead weight. He half carried him to the edge of the water. He took the shell and began pouring the water over Sam's head to try to cool him down. Sam pulled the shell out of Dean's hand and began guzzling the water.

"What are you doing!" Dean yelled, snatching it away from him. "You can't drink that!"

Sam looked angry for a second but then he looked scared.

"Dean did you hear it?" Sam asked, worriedly.

"Hear what Sammy?"

"I hear barking."

Dean listened intently. Could it be a search party? Maybe it was someone out hunting with some dogs. He didn't hear anything now but he couldn't let the opportunity for rescue slip away.

He pulled Sam back up, practically dragging him in an attempt to get him back to the fire faster. He placed Sam back on the ground and walked forward, listening.

"Is anyone out there?" He called. "We're over here."

He walked further on, hoping that someone was out there because he knew Sam didn't have much time.

oooooooo

Sam heard the barking getting closer and closer. They were hellhounds and he knew they were here for Dean. He was too late. Dean had taken off and he saw them start to chase him. Then she appeared in front of him.

He frantically crawled forward. He had to get her to call the dogs off.

"Please no!" He pleaded.

"Well hey there Sammy," The demon said maliciously, her eyes glowing red. "You're about the only Winchester I haven't had the pleasure of meeting."

"Don't take him. Don't take my brother." He was begging now, one hand reaching out in supplication

"Oh I'm taking him," She hissed, bending down so she was at his eye level. "And there isn't a damn thing you can do about." She reached out a hand, digging a fingernail under his chin. He flinched away from the pain she inflicted.

"Look at you Sammy. Groveling. You're weak. I can't even understand why Dean bothered to trade his soul for you at all. You couldn't even return to the favor and save him."

"No," Sam shook his head furiously, his hair falling into his eyes. But he knew she was right. He had failed Dean. It was his fault Dean had to make that deal in the first place and he couldn't even do anything for Dean.

"I am going to make sure your brother suffers. He won't be getting a get out of jail free card like your daddy. Every day will be living hell for him," She laughed evilly at her choice of words.

"I won't let you take him!" He yelled. He tried to push forward but he weakly fell back down to the ground.

This seemed to delight her more and she laughed so loud that it echoed through the trees. It seemed to be surrounding him from all sides.

"Say good-bye to your brother Sammy," She said with a sneer.

"Dean!" He yelled, before burying his face in his arm.

oooooooo

He was listening for the sound of the barking, when he heard Sam cry out. He charged forward, crashing through the trees back in the direction of Sam. The sight that met his eyes made him stop short. If he had seen something like this under any other circumstances, he might have laughed. Sam was talking to a tree. However, it obviously wasn't a tree to Sammy. It was something that was filling him with terror.

Sam had managed to crawl over to it of his own accord, apparently now oblivious to any pain he might be experiencing.

He grabbed Sam by the shoulders in an attempt to snap him out of it. He finally succeeded in drawing Sam's eyes away from the tree and toward him.

"Dean, she's here! You have to get out of here!" Sam cried, pointing toward the tree.

"Who Sam? There's no one there. It's just a tree, see?" He got up and tapped on the bark.

"No Dean. It was the Crossroads' Demon," Sam said, in a panic.

Dean felt fear grip him like a vise. Sam was obviously hallucinating but what he had seen was very real to him, his fright not fabricated. He thought back to Sam's episodes on the beach, the invisible bug and the comments about demon blood. The barking must have been in his head too. Hellhounds, he thought, feeling miserably for his brother. He hated to even picture what Sam had gone through. He knew it had to be the dehydration and the fever. Sam had also tried to drink some salt water. He had heard stories about the ingestion of salt water causing vivid hallucinations. But that wouldn't be enough to cause this. Had Sam drank any of it before? He remembered Sam's insistence of going to the water a few times during the previous day. He must have been drinking it then, Dean thought, berating himself for not catching Sam in the act.

"Sam I am going to go see if I can find some fresh water," He said. He had no idea why he was even bothering. He knew he wouldn't find any but he had to do something. He felt Sam grip his arm roughly.

"Please don't leave me!" Sam begged, sounding extremely childlike.

"Okay Sam I won't go."

"No you will Dean," Sam said tearfully. Sam was crying now. However, there weren't any tears in his eyes, his dehydration so severe that he could no longer produce any.

Dean thought maybe Sam was still disoriented, but for the first time in awhile, Dean saw clarity in Sam's eyes, the clouds of confusion clearing.

"Did I do that?" Sam asked, tentatively reaching a hand up to the bruise on Dean's jawline.

"Sam, it's okay—"

"No! It's not okay!" Sam interjected. "I'm sorry Dean for how I have been acting and for causing you to have to make that deal," Sam continued. "It's my fault that in six months, you'll be gone."

"Sam there is still plenty of time," Dean replied, hoping to calm his brother down.

"No there isn't," Sam said, shaking his head vehemently.

The effort of crying was too much for Sam's broken body and he fell sideways on to Dean. He grabbed Sam in his arms, allowing him to cry on his shoulder. Everything suddenly made sense to him, Sam's moodiness over the last few months, his impatience with him, and his hesitancy about going on certain hunts. The deal was wreaking havoc on Sam's emotions. He might be going to hell but he was putting Sam _through_ hell. Sam felt like he was losing him, and he was right. He had been thinking of all the things Sam was denied in life but he was denying Sam his brother. He already was leaving him behind ahead of schedule too, by not listening to him and taking his input into consideration. Sam just wanted to save him and what had he done instead of thanking him? He had called Sam selfish. He almost laughed at how stupid he'd been. He couldn't be more far off the mark. Sam was right about some of those other hunts not being demons or valid hunts. He had insisted though, just like he had insisted on this hunt. He had even insisted they take the stupid boat when Sam had protested against it. It was entirely his fault that Sam was at death's door.

"I'm so sorry Sam. For everything. You aren't selfish at all," He said, a lump forming in his throat.

He knew Sam couldn't hear him though. He noticed Sam had stopped crying and was now silent. The sobs that were wracking his body had stopped and he was still. He turned Sam over so his head was resting in the crook of his arm. He was unconscious as he suspected, his features relaxed. Sam looked at peace and he was glad he was no longer seeing a twisted version of reality.

This whole thing was so unfair but he supposed this whole turn of events was fitting and what he deserved. He was going to watch Sam die just like Sam would have had to watch him die.

Dean continued holding Sam. He barely noticed as the night shrouded them in darkness. He watched the rise and fall of Sam's chest, comforted by the fact that his brother was still alive. At some point during the night, he nodded off. He awoke with the familiar weight of Sam still in his arms, but something was wrong. Sam was shaking, his long limbs twitching. His eyes were open but only the whites showed as they rolled up in his head. Dean could see he was in the throes of a convulsion. He didn't know what he could do for him. He sat there clutching Sam, riding it out with him. Finally it stopped but Dean watched in horror as Sam's breathing stopped along with it.

**TBC**

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	4. Surfacing

A/N: I'm so sorry it took me forever to update. I wasn't feeling well and this one took me a bit longer to write. Here it is though, the last chapter. We have reached the end. I had so much fun writing this and I want to say thank-you so much to everyone for reading and reviewing and for their support of the story. You really motivated me to write. Again, to those I could not respond to individually, thank-you so much as well. I really hope you enjoy the last chapter :)

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It was as if it happened in slow motion. He saw Sam stop seizing, daring to hope that the worst of it was over. Sam appeared to be trying to take a breath, but then his chest faltered. It was like a flickering candle trying to hold the flame before it's extinguished. Sam expelled a tiny puff of air, his chest going completely still and then everything nearly went dark for Dean. 

He clutched the tree he was leaning on, waiting for the darkness that crept at the edges of his vision to clear.

"Sammy!" Dean yelled, once he could see straight again. He grabbed him by the shoulders, his body as limp as a ragdoll, his head falling back.

He placed Sam on the ground, feeling for a pulse but he found none. The terror threatened to take him under. He knew how difficult, if not impossible, it was to bring someone back with CPR once they lost their pulse. He undid the binding on Sam's shoulder, tipped his head back and began CPR. He gave Sam compressions, pausing only to give him a breath. He could only imagine how he was further damaging Sam's ribs but it wasn't important now. He felt something wet splash his face and he vaguely realized it was raining. He almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. It was raining when it could do nothing to help Sam now when before it could have provided him with the fresh water he so desperately needed. He continued to pump on Sam's chest, stopping to check for signs of life. Sam remained lifeless, his chest only rising when he breathed air into his lungs.

The wind had picked up considerably and he could hear the trees rustling above his head. He knew another storm was coming but he didn't care if it caused a tidal wave and washed away the beach. It didn't matter to him if the world ended. He remembered telling Bobby much the same thing when he suggested he continue fighting. What was the point of fighting for a world that didn't contain Sam? If he lost Sam, his world was gone anyway.

The rain fell harder and the splattering of the drops seemed to be echoing the words inside his head: _Sam's gone_.

_No, no, no, no, no!_ He mentally chastised himself. He refused to bring himself to accept it. He was reminded of Bobby again when he had suggested they bury Sam. He was adamant about it. People buried bodies. Sam wasn't a body. He was his brother. He wondered why when people died, they were referred to as a body or the remains. It didn't seem right. They were still people. They still belonged to someone and Sam belonged to him.

He looked at Sam's slack features. The rain poured down on his face, causing his bangs to fall into his eyes. Dean brushed them out of his eyes, even though he knew Sam couldn't feel it. A rain drop slid down the corner of Sam's eye, giving the illusion that he was crying. He thought of Sam's inability to produce tears before and he pumped harder on his chest, feeling his own tears start to mix in with the rain.

"Sammy come on!"

He glanced at Sam's face again. He looked peaceful. He knew he wasn't going to be able to bring Sam back. His body had given out, was burdened by too many things and he knew he was to blame for most of what Sam had to go through both physically and mentally.

He angrily got to his feet, pacing the ground.

"What more do you want from me!" He screamed out loud. He half expected the Crossroads' Demon to really appear this time and mock his failure, make fun of him for losing his brother twice. He nervously ran his hand through his hair and then balled both his hands into fists, punching them down into his legs. A sob erupted from somewhere deep inside of him and got caught painfully in his throat. This was all wrong. It wasn't fair. He wasn't supposed to have to lose Sam twice. He deserved a reprieve of some kind. How could he deal with his worst fear again? He knew there would be no deal this time, but the demon wouldn't be getting his whole soul when she came for him. It was cracked in too many pieces right now.

"No!" He shouted, throwing himself down beside Sam again.

He resumed compressions and breathing for Sam, his body on autopilot. He checked again, but still nothing. He grabbed Sam's face in his hand, the side of it now slicked with rain soaked mud.

"Damn it Sam, I will not let you die!" He yelled into his face. He breathed for Sam again, but he still did not start breathing on his own. He found himself striking Sam sharply against his cheek and he didn't even know why he did it.

"I'm sorry Sammy," He cried, breaking down. He fisted Sam's shirt in his hand, burying his face in it. He let himself cry, his chest heaving. The absence of Sam's heartbeat against his ear made him sob harder. He didn't even understand why he was still alive. Sam was half his heart and a person couldn't survive with half a heart.

The wind picked up in intensity and something seemed different. It seemed louder somehow. He raised his tear streaked face skyward and spied something flying overhead. It took him a bit for it to compute that it was a helicopter. He got to his feet and ran, ignoring the weakness he felt in his body. He mentally apologized to Sam for leaving him there but this was their last chance. He only hoped this wasn't some dehydration induced hallucination of his own. He ran out of the tree line, close to where he had written the SOS message in the sand. The helicopter was bright orange and it was flying up ahead now away from them. Dean raised his hands in the air, hoping they'd spot him.

"Help!" He yelled. He doubted they could hear him above the noise but he had to try.

He saw the helicopter turn around and make its way back over. It flew right above his head.

"We can't land!" One of the occupants yelled over the roar of the blades. "We're coming down to get you!"

"My brother needs help!" Dean yelled, shaking his head furiously. He saw rope being dropped down and one of the guys being lowered on it. He carried a bag and Dean hoped that it contained medical supplies. An older looking man dropped down beside him.

"We're from the US Coast Guard. There isn't a lot of room to land and the storm—"

"My brother is dying," Dean said, cutting him off. He took off in a run, pleased when he saw the man had taken the hint and was following.

Dean kneeled down again beside Sam, while the man followed suit. He yanked out a pair of scissors and began snipping away at Sam's shirt. He pulled out a stethoscope and placed it against Sam's chest. Dean looked up to see another, younger looking Search and Rescue member had joined them as well. He was carrying a bag too, as well as a backboard.

"He's not breathing and he doesn't have a pulse either," The man said, sharing a look with his partner that wasn't lost on Dean.

"What the hell are you doing? Do something for him!" Dean shouted.

"Son--"

"I'm not your son!" Dean interrupted, angrily. "Now help my brother!"

"I need an ET tube," The man said to his partner, finally taking action. He took it from him and tilted Sam's head back, successfully getting the tube down Sam's throat. He took an ambu bag and began bagging Sam. His partner started compressions.

"Are you Dean?" The man asked.

"Yeah I am. That's Sam," Dean answered, pointing at his unresponsive sibling.

"I'm Todd and that's Russ."

"How did you know and how did you find us anyway?" Dean asked.

"Kevin Bradley said he rented a boat to a Dean and it never made it back to shore. The Coast Guard picked up a distress call earlier saying The Hunter was in trouble off the coast of Cape Alex. We did a sweep of the area but we couldn't find your boat. We were about to call it a day today because of the weather when we saw the SOS in the sand. That was good thinking."

Dean almost smiled, knowing Sam had saved the day, but he couldn't. It hurt to think Sam had managed to save him but he might have been too late to save himself.

"It was my brother's idea," Dean said, his voice cracking.

"Smart kid," Russ said, sympathetically.

"He's going to need cardiac conversion. Continue compressions until we get him on the chopper," Todd said to Russ.

The men placed Sam on the backboard, immobilizing his head. Dean watched attentively the whole time, realizing that several minutes had passed by since Sam had stopped breathing.

"Can you help carry him?" Todd asked him. "Russ is going to keep giving him CPR until we get to the chopper."

"Yeah I can do it," Dean said taking the other end of the backboard in his hands as they prepared to lift Sam.

"On three. Ready? One, two three."

Todd and Dean lifted Sam as they made their way through the trees. Russ pumped Sam's heart while Todd used one of his hands to bag Sam. They made their way slowly to the waterline. The helicopter was no longer hovering there but was flying some distance away and Dean felt a momentary surge of panic. They carefully placed Sam back down on the ground for a moment.

"Jim, make your way back now. We have a critically injured patient here in cardiac arrest that needs a hospital ASAP," Todd said speaking into a walkie talkie. Russ had taken over with one handed compressions while squeezing the ambu bag.

"Don't worry. The helicopter has to keep moving because of the storm," Russ said to him, apparently noticing the worried expression on his face.

The helicopter flew back over, hovering above them again. A rope was dropped out.

"Russ is going to take you up. Then we'll lower the basket for Sam," Todd said loudly.

"No I'm not leaving my brother," Dean said, shaking his head.

"Look, he'll be fine. Todd is going to take over CPR. We have to hurry!" Russ said.

Dean didn't want to be responsible for delaying Sam the treatment he needed any longer than necessary and he assented. Russ secured the rope around himself and then instructed Dean to hold on to him. They were then hoisted up to the helicopter. Dean looked down and could see choppy water below. The rope spun in the wind and it made Dean feel incredibly dizzy. Once he was aboard, he realized there were a few other members of the Coast Guard aboard the helicopter. There was a stretcher waiting for Sam, and Dean could see they had the defibrillator ready for him. Russ secured the basket to the rope and sent it down next. Then he followed it. Dean peeked out of the helicopter and watched as Todd and Russ placed Sam's backboard into the basket. They gave the thumbs up sign and then a pulley system began to pull Sam up.

"My brother is coming up alone!" Dean shouted, when he realized they were going to pull Sam up with no one there to make sure he couldn't fall.

"He'll be okay. Russ and Todd are really good at what they do," A female Search and Rescue member said to him, patting him comfortingly on his arm. The patch on her jumpsuit read Allison.

Dean anxiously peered down, waiting for the basket to get closer to the top. Once Sam had safely made it inside, Dean breathed a sigh of relief but it was short lived as he heard the whine of the machine.

Sam had been placed on the stretcher and Allison had hooked Sam up to the heart monitor. It was signaling that Sam didn't have a heartbeat.

"He's in VFib. Charge to 300," Allison said, taking the heart paddles from her partner. His patch read Miguel.

"Clear!" Allison shouted as she shocked Sam's heart. Sam arched off the backboard and his body flopped against the onslaught. It reminded Dean of a fish out of water right before it died and he could barely watch.

"Again!" Allison called, shocking Sam again. The heart monitor continued to scream.

"Charge to 350," Allison said to Miguel.

She shocked Sam's heart two more times but there was still no rhythm. Instead of showing signs of improvement, Sam was now flatlining.

"He's in asystole now!" Miguel exclaimed, noticing the change on the monitor.

"Anything?" Russ asked, making his way back inside the helicopter. Todd had just made it back up.

Allison shook her head, giving Dean a mournful look. Dean locked eyes with her, silently begging her not to give up on his brother.

"Get me some Atropine," Allison replied, a look of determination on her face.

She injected it into Sam's chest and watched the monitor for signs of a shockable rhythm.

Dean rocked back and forth from the seat he was sitting on against the wall, unconsciously pulling at his bottom lip. He silently begged Sam to fight.

"Still asystole," Miguel said, quietly.

"Please Sammy," He said out loud, suddenly not caring if anyone heard him or not.

"He's back in VFib!" Miguel shouted, sounding surprised.

"Charge to 400," Allison replied, not wasting a minute.

She shocked Sam again but still the monitor did not signal a rhythm.

"Again!" She yelled, hitting Sam again.

This time Dean heard the sound of the heart monitor change. It was beeping, but somewhat erratically.

"We have a rhythm, but he's tachy."

Dean looked nervously over at her, not sure whether his brother was still alive or not.

"Sam's heartbeat is irregular. It's fast," She said, seeing Dean was confused.

"But he's still alive right? His heart is beating?" Dean asked, not sure if he should believe he had his brother back yet.

"Yes," She answered as they quickly surrounded Sam and began to assess his other injuries.

Miguel undid the splint on Sam's leg and audibly groaned when he saw the damage.

"He's got an open fracture to the left Tib Fib," He stated. "Looks like infection has set in."

"Probably explains the fever then. His temp is 104.1," Allison replied, taking a thermometer out of Sam's ear.

"What happened to you out there?" Russ asked, trying to draw Dean's eyes away from the activity surrounding Sam.

"There was a storm and the boat went down," Dean answered, unable to take his eyes off Sam even for a second. He watched as Allison rubbed Sam's sternum with her fist trying to elicit a response. She also examined his ribs. Miguel was adding better wrapping to Sam's leg. He didn't want his brother to be in pain, but he was hoping to hear Sam respond in some way, show some signs of life to show him that he was still in there.

"Sam almost drowned," Dean continued. "We made it to shore but then he broke his leg. He had a high fever and I did what I…I could," Dean stuttered. _But it was not enough, _He thought self-deprecatingly. "He was so thirsty. He even drank the salt water. He was seeing things. Then he had a seizure and--"

"He drank the seawater?" Russ asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

Dean nodded his head in agreement.

"Don't give him any saline," Russ said, addressing Allison.

"Is something wrong?" Dean asked.

"Your brother might have a buildup of salt in his system and we're not equipped to deal with it. We just don't want to take any chances."

Dean dimly nodded his head and leaned heavily against the wall, suddenly feeling very tired. He shivered, feeling as if every bit of heat had been leeched from his body. He was still wet from the rain but this chill ran deeper. The adrenaline was wearing off and he was more aware of his own condition. His nerves were completely shot. Miguel noticed and handed him a blanket. He draped it over his shoulders. He couldn't believe he was aboard a helicopter. Under any normal circumstance, he'd be freaking out but now it didn't faze him. The only thing he could focus on was Sam and whether he was going to make it or not. He listened to the beeps of Sam's heart monitor. They were still too fast but at least they were present. The wail of the heart monitor before was now imprinted on his brain, and listening to the beeps helped to block it out. He felt his head start to dip and he let it, his eyelids at half mast. The sounds around him became muted and he finally succumbed to the overwhelming tiredness he felt.

oooooooo

He woke up feeling more alert than he had in awhile, with the sharp sting of antiseptic filling his nostrils. He knew he was in a hospital but he had no memory of getting there. He roughly threw the blankets aside, and he felt the pull of the IV in the crook of his elbow.

"Not so fast there Mr.Blotzer," The doctor said entering the room.

For a second, he had no idea why the doctor was calling him that but then he remembered he had used that name to rent the boat.

"You can just call me Dean," Dean said, trying to work the tape on his arm. He had to get up and find out what happened to Sam.

"You should leave that in," The doctor replied, putting up a hand to stop him. "I'm Dr. Sims." He put out a hand for Dean to shake.

"My brother? Where is he?" Dean asked, urgently, ignoring the hand.

"One thing at a time. Why don't we discuss your condition first and then we can discuss your brother."

"Look I'm fine—"

"You were suffering from dehydration when you came in. We have you on fluids," Dr. Sims interrupted, pointing up at the bag hanging from the IV pole. "You have been unconscious for nearly twelve hours."

"Twelve hours!" Dean exclaimed. He couldn't believe it. He recalled now falling asleep on the helicopter but he couldn't fathom that he had slept that long. It scared him to think what could have happened to Sam during all that time. _He could be—,_ He thought, unable to even think the word.

"Just tell me if he's alive!" Dean shouted, not willing to listen to the doctor for a second longer.

"Yes he is."

Dean allowed himself to release the breath he had been holding.

"I'd like to examine you and then we can see about releasing you so you can see your brother."

Dean allowed himself to be examined, anything to get out of there that much faster. The doctor told him his dehydration had improved a great deal but he wanted him to finish the fluids in his IV. The doctor also preferred he stay in the hospital longer, but he refused on both counts. Dr. Sims agreed to release him if he would agree to the extra fluids and some food. Dean reluctantly agreed so he could be set free. He watched the bag drip, willing it to go faster. He also managed to eat most of the breakfast they gave him. Once the IV was finished and the nurse removed it, he dressed quickly in some scrubs, intent on getting information on Sam. He walked out of the room and found Dr. Sims in the hallway.

"Up and about I see," Dr. Sims said when he saw him.

"My brother?" Dean asked pointedly, cutting to the chase.

"Come with me," He said, motioning him forward.

They walked down the hallway. Dean saw signs pointing to ICU and he felt as if he was walking toward the executioner. He knew his brother was in bad shape. They stopped just outside the doors to the unit.

"Why don't we have a seat Dean before we go see Sam." Dr. Sims pointed to a small waiting room

"My brother?" Dean asked again, this time more quietly, once they were seated.

"Dean, your brother was brought in suffering from a much more severe case of dehydration than you. He has what is known as hypernatremia."

"What's that?" Dean asked.

"It's a build up in salt in the blood. This was caused by the dehydration and also the ingestion of the salt water. You told Search and Rescue that he drank some of the ocean water."

"Yeah he did, but I still don't understand why he was so thirsty. I mean, I was thirsty, but not thirsty enough to start chugging salt water."

"Well he did have a fever which most likely increased his thirst. Was he vomiting at all?"

"Yeah he did and he was seasick on the boat."

"That's most likely part of the reason too. He probably already was experiencing some dehydration even before you washed up on shore."

Dean lowered his eyes in shame. He knew that was another thing he had to feel guilty for.

"But he'll be okay right? You just get the salt out of him?" Dean questioned, somehow knowing it wasn't that simple.

"It's much more complicated than that. We have to be careful how quickly we bring the levels down especially since Sam has already shown neurological symptoms as well."

"Neurological symptoms? You mean his brain?" Dean asked, fearfully.

"Well we are worried about brain damage. He had that seizure. He also suffered hallucinations and…" Dr. Sims said, his voice dropping off.

"And what?" Dean asked, now extremely alarmed.

"Dean, your brother is in a coma."

Dean felt like the floor had dropped out from under him. How could salt cause a coma? Dean also noticed the tone of the doctor's voice had changed and it was much more compassionate. This filled him with a further sense of foreboding and let him know Sam's prognosis was even grimmer than he had thought. He suddenly knew what it felt like to be that boat sinking in that storm and he found himself unable to respond.

"We are attempting to replenish his lost fluids and electrolytes," Dr. Sims continued. "We have him on something called D5W which is Dextrose 5 percent in Water. It helps bring down the salt levels. We are hoping that once we get the levels back to normal that Sam will come out of it. We are concerned about his kidneys though too. Your brother is showing signs of kidney failure but we're hoping the fluids will reverse that as well. We are troubled though that Sam's kidneys aren't responding as fast as we'd hoped." Dr. Sims eyed Dean, noticing how quiet he had become, wondering if he should continue.

Dean had dropped his head down into his hands, feeling like this was all too much to take in. He looked up, suddenly realizing the doctor had stopped talking and was eyeing him sympathetically. He wanted him to continue but at the same time he dreaded it. His brother already had more than enough wrong with him.

"What about his leg? He had a broken leg," Dean said, indicating that Dr. Sims should go on.

"That's the other thing we are worried about. Sam has an open fracture of his left Tibia and Fibula which has become infected. He's developed osteomyelitis, a bone infection, and he's running a fever. We normally don't like to perform surgery when the patient has an elevated temperature but we didn't have a choice in the matter. We had to take Sam to the OR."

"My brother had surgery?" Dean asked, astonished.

"Yes earlier today, the orthopedic surgeon Dr. Foglio performed a surgical debridement of the wound and cleaned out debris and dead tissue."

"Is his leg okay now?"

"Dr. Foglio stabilized the fracture with rods but he didn't close the wound yet. He was still concerned about the level of infection so right now the wound is open and he inserted some antibiotic beads. Sam is also on some intravenous antibiotics. Dr. Foglio will have to go in again within the next 48 hours though to perform another debridement. If it looks okay, he will close the wound and cast his leg."

"You left a hole in my brother's leg?" Dean asked, incredulously.

"It's not uncommon when the wound is in that condition. The good news is that there is adequate blood flow to Sam's foot."

"Is there anything else?" Dean asked, bitterly. He couldn't see any sign of good news in sight, despite what the doctor told him.

"He also has some broken ribs which we believe caused a bruised right lung. It might have been injured during CPR. Thankfully the lung didn't collapse. That can affect breathing but right now your brother is on a ventilator so he's getting enough oxygen. The rest of your brother's injuries are relatively minor. We sutured a wound on his head and we think he might have a mild concussion. He also had some additional smaller abrasions which we cleaned as well."

Dean sat there shell shocked, speechless once again.

"Now I know this is a lot to digest—"

Dean grunted, not caring that he interrupted the doctor. That was definitely an understatement. He brother was in a coma, not even capable of breathing on his own. He could have brain damage or he could lose his leg.

"Dean, your brother is young," Dr. Sims continued. "From what I heard from Search and Rescue, his heart stopped for several minutes but they managed to get him back. He sounds like a fighter to me."

Dean knew this was true, but Sammy was even more of a fighter than anyone realized. His battle scars ran deep. He had spent his whole life fighting, fighting against a darkness that was always after him. Sam's demons weren't just the physical ones either. They were the emotional ones as well and a lot harder to do battle with. Sam dealt with a tremendous amount of guilt every day for those who had been lost because of the demon's plans for him. He hated to think that he had added to this guilt but he knew he had the moment he had sealed the deal with that kiss.

"Would you like to see your brother now?" Dr. Sims asked, interrupting his thoughts.

Dean nodded his head sadly.

oooooooo

Dean entered the room and his heart sank. The doctor had explained all of Sam's injuries, but it still didn't prepare him for seeing him in that condition. Sam looked small on the bed, which was hard to imagine considering his brother was the size of a small evergreen tree. The first thing Dean noticed was the ventilator, jutting out of Sam's mouth. The tape looked like it was painfully pulling at Sam's cracked lips. Sam was hooked up to the heart monitor. The beats seemed slower than before and Dean hoped that was a good sign. Several bags of solution were suspended on an IV pole above Sam's head. Sam's leg was propped up on a pillow. Dean could see it was heavily bandaged and in a temporary brace. The thought of the open wound under the bandages made him feel ill. As he got closer to the bed, he could see the bandage covering the stitches on Sam's head. The doctor had covered the smaller cuts on Sam's face with an antibiotic cream, causing his face to look shiny. He also noticed that Sam had a sunburn on his face. Apparently the canopy the trees provided was not enough to block the rays of the sun. Despite the sunburn though, Sam still looked impossibly pale to Dean.

"You're going to give me a run for my money with these near death experiences Sammy," Dean said, gripping the handrail and looking down at his brother. "Now I know you might have me beat with Rock, Paper, Scissors but I had you whipped with the coming back from the dead thing. The doctor was using so much medical jargon to describe your injuries. You would have loved it. Now you need to wake up so you can give him some competition in the Geekboy category."

"You're not going to believe what's making you sick either. Salt. Can you believe it?" Dean said, attempting another joke with his unconscious brother. "That's supposed to kill the bad guys, not you. You can't let a condiment take you out. That would be lame."

The smile felt foreign on his face, like he was wearing a mask. He sat down heavily in the chair. He snaked his hand through the railing and grasped Sam's hand in his own. It felt warm, too warm. Sam still had a fever. He was the one who had damned himself to hell yet he felt as if Sam was the one always facing the fire lately.

"Look Sammy, I screwed up," He said seriously, tears welling up in his eyes. He felt like he was saying that too much lately. He had said it to his brother's still body only six months ago. He had vowed then to never let anything bad happen to Sam again but here he was in the same position as he was before. He pushed down the anguish he felt, reminding himself that Sammy was battered but he was still alive this time.

"I just want you to know that I get it Sammy. We need to talk about some things and you know me. I'm not the most patient person in the world so I need you to hurry and wake up," He continued, managing a tearful laugh.

He watched Sam's face for any sign, a twitch of his eyelids or a scrunching of his eyebrows, to let him know that he was waking up. He couldn't bear to think of Sam never waking up and never hearing him tell him how sorry he was. He could deal with dying himself but he could never accept Sam dying thinking that he thought those things about him. He clasped Sam's hand tighter, and continued his vigil.

oooooooo

Over the next two days, Dean watched as nurses and doctors came in and out of Sam's room. Sam continued to run a fever and he used a damp washcloth to wipe the sweat off his brother's face. As hard as it was to see Sam battling a fever that high, it was good to see him sweating again. He knew Sam was regaining the lost fluids.

He met Dr. Foglio and he watched with trepidation as Sam was taken for a second surgical debridement on his leg. He was greatly relieved when he returned sporting a large white plaster cast on his leg that went up just over his knee. The doctor said that Sam's wound was looking much better and he expected that Sam would regain full use of his leg with some physical therapy. Sam's fever broke shortly after and then he began to trigger the vent. Dean was frightened at first at the odd sound, but Dr. Sims assured him it was actually a good sign. The tube was removed and replaced with a nasal cannula. The salt levels in Sam's blood were coming down and his kidneys were also no longer in danger of failing. Dr. Sims assured him that Sam would most likely be waking up soon and then they would know for sure if he had suffered any lasting effects from his dehydration and coma.

On the third day of Sam's coma, Dean finally got what he was hoping for. He awoke from a light doze in the chair beside Sam's bed to see a pair of confused hazel eyes staring at him.

"Wa…water," Sam stuttered, his throat raw.

Dean almost smiled. He couldn't believe Sam was asking for the very thing he said he wanted as soon as he got back to civilization. He jumped up, taking the pitcher and filling a glass.

He held it out to Sam who made a move to lift his hand to take it. He grimaced as pain ripped through his sore shoulder.

"Oh God Sammy I'm sorry," Dean said, placing the glass on the bedside table. He had completely forgotten about Sam's injured shoulder. Since he had removed the binding, the doctor probably hadn't noticed it was hurt. He quickly hit the call button near Sam's bed to get a doctor

Sam's nurse entered a couple moments later and she went off to retrieve Dr. Sims. Dr. Sims asked Dean to leave so he could examine Sam. Dean waited outside in the hallway, anxious to see if he would say that Sam hadn't suffered any ill effects and was on the mend.

"Dean," Dr. Sims started, closing Sam's door as he left the room.

"How is he?" Dean asked.

"His vital signs look good. His lungs are clear but I am going to keep him on the oxygen a couple more days while his ribs and lung heal. I checked his shoulder and I think it will heal as long as he rests it. I'll have Dr. Foglio take a look at it though too just to be sure."

"What about his brain?"

"I asked him some basic questions. He remembers you, the boat, and taking that fall. I am going to schedule him for an MRI just to be on the safe side, but I don't think he suffered any brain damage."

"He remembers all of it?"

"I'd say for the most part, yes."

Dean wasn't sure if he should be happy about that or not. He wished Sam could erase what he did to him from his mind.

"He's had a pretty rough time of it. I asked him about those hallucinations and they sounded pretty terrifying."

"You did?" Dean asked in alarm. "What did he say he saw?"

"Demons," The doctor said with a chuckle. "Poor kid, but I've known people who have seen worse. Those hallucinations can be pretty out there."

"Demons? Whew! Wow that is..out there," Dean said, pursing his lips and faking a laugh.

"I gave him some pain medicine," Dr. Sims said with a smile. "Most likely he is going to spend a lot of time sleeping over the next few days and it's what his body needs. We'll be fitting him with a sling for his arm once he's a bit more mobile."

"Thank-you Doctor," Dean replied, walking back into Sam's room.

ooooooooo

A few days later, Sam finally started spending more time awake then asleep. Dr. Sims suggested Sam get some nourishment in him, in the form of some solid food. Sam sat up in bed, holding a spoon in his left hand, half heartedly picking at the oatmeal that was in front of him. His right arm was in sling that went around his neck, but also fastened behind his back to assist in healing. Dean highly doubted that what Sam was eating could be called nourishment.

_Maybe for a bunch of flies once the stuff's in the trash_, he mused.

They made small talk mostly, still not broaching the subject of what they both had experienced. The presence of the issues could be felt in the room though, making it feel more crowded than it actually was.

"Have you had any rest at all?" Sam asked, tentatively.

"Some," Dean answered, simply.

"Have you even left the hospital at all?"

"No. I haven't even had a shower yet," Dean said, jokingly sniffing his armpit. "I still have sand in my shorts. You know if I get hemor…"

"Dean, too much information! Again!" Sam exclaimed. A crooked smile formed on his lips and Dean felt his stomach clench.

"I'm just saying I'm going to blame you is all," Dean replied with a smirk. He stood up and walked over to the window, becoming quiet once again.

"Dean, are you still upset with me?" Sam asked.

"Why would you think I'd be mad?" Dean asked, turning around. He couldn't believe the kid was still blaming himself for everything.

"It's just that you're so quiet," Sam answered, putting his head down as if he felt guilty about something. "I'm sorry about—"

"Don't Sam," Dean said, raising his hand signaling Sam to stop. "I'm the one who needs to apologize. I'm sorry for the way I acted. It's my fault you almost…you almost died," Dean said, looking down to examine the floor. The word still made him flinch. "I've been acting like a real asshole lately."

"I haven't been the easiest person to live with though either," Sam said, thoughtfully.

"Yeah well that's my fault too, for not hearing you out."

"Dean, I want to save you," Sam said, with such heartfelt sincerity that tears threatened in Dean's eyes.

"Sam, I know."

"But you don't act like it. You're always looking for something to hunt and you're so willing to throw your life away."

"I have been giving you time to research sometimes though haven't I?" Dean asked.

"No, Dean. You haven't," Sam answered, honestly.

"Sam," Dean began, sighing loudly. "I guess I just figured if I'm going to die, I might as well go out fighting, take out as many bad guys as I can. It's better than just waiting for the hellhounds to come for me."

"Dean, I'm not going to let you die," Sam replied, peering up at him with soulful eyes.

"Yeah well I'm not going to let you die either. You know if I try to get out of this thing that you could die."

"You think I don't know that? I do, Dean, but we have been over this. When you made that deal, you didn't just sell your soul. You linked our souls together. We'll just have to look out for each other."

"Yeah? Well I am going to watching you like a hawk," Dean said, only half seriously, breaking the tension in the room. "I already had the doctor install a complete little brother tune up on your ass."

Sam looked up at him, smiling, yet unsure what Dean was talking about.

"Yeah," Dean continued. "I had some Lojack put on you just in case you pull one of your disappearing acts. I also had one of those heart shockers installed in you in case you try to pull a disappearing act of the more permanent variety too."

"You wish," Sam replied, laughing.

"You scared me Sammy," Dean said, solemn once more.

"I'm sorry."

"Just don't let it happen again," Dean teased.

"Dr. Sims said I might need to use a wheelchair for awhile once I get out of here," Sam said, putting his spoon down and finally giving up on the oatmeal.

"Well maybe I can fix it up. Make it go from zero to sixty in under ten seconds," Dean offered, raising an eyebrow.

"I thought you wanted me to live Dean," Sam jested.

Dean laughed, finally feeling like things were getting back to normal between him and Sam.

"So did the doctor say when I could get out of this place?" Sam asked.

"No but he said you saw demons. Did you tell him that?" Dean asked, surprised.

"Well I figured it was the one time I could tell the truth without anyone thinking I was nuts," Sam answered, sheepishly.

"You saw some pretty crazy stuff out there. You even mentioned something about demon blood."

Sam felt his heart rate speed up, not sure what to say. He decided this was the best time to tell Dean, now that they were clearing the air. He couldn't tell him about Mary yet though. He still had to know more before he'd risk breaking his brother's heart.

"Dean, the demon blood wasn't a hallucination."

"What do you mean?"

"When I was in Cold Oak, one of the things the demon showed me was that he put demon blood in me."

Dean looked taken aback for a moment but quickly recovered.

"Well we'll just add that to the to do list along with getting me out of the deal. We'll figure it out Sammy," Dean said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Did the demon really say I came back wrong?" Sam asked in a rush.

"Sam," Dean began, annoyed. He was hoping they wouldn't go there. "Demons lie."

"Please Dean," Sam said, sorrowfully.

"Yes he said it, but I don't believe it for a second. I didn't mean it. It was heat of the moment," Dean said, crossing his arms in front of him.

"I have been feeling really upset lately and I just thought with the demon blood and what you said that…"

"That you came back wrong?" Dean finished for him.

Sam nodded his head, a stricken look on his face.

"You didn't come back wrong Sammy." Dean paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "You came back changed though. I knew how dad's deal affected me and I should have realized what it would put you through too. You're dealing with a lot and I feel responsible."

"It's okay. I'm not mad about what you did Dean. I'm just scared," Sam said, softly, fidgeting with his blanket.

"I don't want you to be scared about anything Sammy. Most of all, I don't want you to be afraid that you came back wrong. You're still my annoying geekboy kid brother," Dean joked.

"Thanks Dean," Sam responded, quietly, comforted by his brother's faith in him.

"Although," Dean started, mischief shining in his eyes. "That punch of yours was weak. I think that you came back punching like a girl."

Sam chuckled loudly.

"Sure laugh now. I'm getting back at you later as soon as you're no longer an invalid," Dean said, giving him a wink.

"Dude, I was just cashing in on that raincheck."

"Raincheck? You cashed in on that several times when you were stuck as a girl for a week."

"Possession does not count."

"It totally does."

They bickered back and forth like that for awhile. Sam felt better than he had in a long time. They had plenty they still had to face with the war going on and there were many hard times ahead. The storm Bobby had discussed before was now raging outside. However, he felt at peace. He knew they would make it because they would weather the storm together.

The End

* * *

Please let me know what you thought of the ending :) 


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